


Whole to Start With

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst and Feels, Awkward Conversations, Conflict, Dysfunctional Family, Episode: s02e28 The Core, Family Feels, Mid-Canon, Mind Control, Panic Attacks, Past Relationship(s), Post-Betrayal, Reunions, Sadness, Team as Family, personality change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 04:17:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3714733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wheeljack and Chip are eager to tell Hauler the news: with their new 'dominator discs', they'll be able to turn his old team to the Autobot side. The ex-Constructicon's reaction is not at all what they expect.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>An intense wave of fear swirled his spark into a frantic pulse and he slumped to the floor, hiding his face against his shaking knees.<em></em></em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whole to Start With

**Author's Note:**

> Soundtrack for this story: "Because of You" by Kelly Clarkson. Seriously, after his team was reprogrammed and betrayed him, this song became Hauler's life!

Hauler pressed his back against the door of his quarters, shuttering his optics and trying to vent evenly. By telling him this most recent news, Wheeljack had inadvertently sent Hauler’s world askew.

The Constructicons were coming _here_. Onto the _Ark_. And they were going to be under Autobot power.

Whimpering quietly, Hauler dragged his hands up and down the door’s surface behind him. Hadn’t he recovered from this? Wasn’t this latest development a _good_ thing? With Devastator’s help, they could most likely win the war!

But he couldn’t shake the terrible feeling that as soon as they put these ‘dominator discs’ on his ex-team, something would go wrong. He had been told that the Decepticon reprogramming code had been irreversible. How long would the discs’ power last?

Wheeljack had been confident as he summoned Hauler to the lab. The human boy in the wheelchair, Chip, had been sitting on the table, leaning forward eagerly.

“Hauler, finally! You _have_ to come see these!” Wheeljack cried.

“What are they?” Hauler asked, picking up one of the discs and studying it closely.

“I call ’em ‘dominator discs’,” Wheeljack declared, glancing at Chip, who waved a hand for him to go on. “And…well, they’re somethin’ special. Specifically to you.”

Hauler wasn’t sure what Wheeljack meant by ‘special’, so he carefully put the disc back on the table, eyeing it with a bit more wariness.

“They take ahold of multiple parts,” Chip started nonchalantly, trying to hide a smile. “And when the parts merge, we can control the object.”

Hauler processed this information, but then his CPU stalled and his spark roiled. “Devastator,” he croaked.

Chip nodded enthusiastically, but Wheeljack frowned. “That was a little creepy; you sounded just like the team.”

Hauler blinked a few times, leaning against the table as his legs threatened collapse. “You’ll be controlling them?” he whispered. “They’ll be…good?”

“Yeh, they’ll be on our side,” Wheeljack confirmed, moving slightly closer. “You okay, Hauler? I, ah, thought you’d be happy, but you don’t look good.”

Hauler opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. Giving up, he bolted. The run to his room seemed to take three times as long as usual. He felt like he was moving through water or mud, like someone was watching him as a movie in slow-motion. He was too distracted by the sensation to watch where he was going and he slammed someone to the ground.

“Hey!” Sunstreaker snarled. “Watch the paint, Indy!”

Scrambling off of the yellow Twin, Hauler spluttered, “What? Indy?”

“Yeah,” Sunstreaker nodded, smirking a little as he picked himself up. “I thought you knew—that’s your nickname! Ever since we found out you were an ex-Constructicon, we’ve called you ‘Indy’. You don’t have a team, so you’re ‘ _independent_ ’!”

Hauler felt his CPU seize once more as he jerked himself to his feet, doubling his fists. “Leave, Sunstreaker, or I might punch you in the face,” he growled. Wheeljack’s invention had ripped away the protective plating around his pain; he didn’t have the patience for this when he was so exposed like this.

Sunstreaker glared at him venomously but obeyed, apparently not in the mood to risk his paint any further. Hauler relaxed when he was gone, shuffling wearily into his quarters.

And now he was here, on the brink of a panic attack. How was he to cope with this? What in Primus’ name was he going to say to his ex-team when they came? How would they act? How would _he_ act? Would they be the family he knew before the recoding? Would they forget all the evil they had done since that time?

“I…thought this was what I wanted,” Hauler muttered to the empty room. “Th-This was why I joined the Autobots.” An intense wave of fear swirled his spark into a frantic pulse and he slumped to the floor, hiding his face against his shaking knees. The room was spinning.

When the static blanketing him finally started receding, Hauler could hear the knocking on the other side of the door, vibrating over his back. He flipped himself over, resting his audial against the door as he punched in the code to open it.

Without a word between them, Brawn and Huffer each took an arm and lifted him from the floor, guiding him away from the door so it closed behind them. From there they lugged him onto his berth and then clambered up after him. There they sat, the room suddenly very quiet aside from Hauler’s gasping.

“You alright, Roady?” Brawn questioned at last in subdued, worried tones.

“Bad time,” Hauler ground out. “Don’t call me that.”

“Something to do with your team?” Huffer tried, causing Hauler to emit a wobbly sob. Brawn scowled warningly at Huffer, who stared back defiantly.

Hauler swallowed a lump tangling his throat cables and whispered, “Yeah.” ‘Road Hauler’—he couldn’t even _think_ of bearing that name he’d used in his days on Cybertron, not now. If only he hadn’t gotten close to Huffer and Brawn; otherwise they wouldn’t even _know_ that name.

“What about them, Hauler?” Huffer called him back to the present. “Are you just missing them?”

“No. Wheeljack is going to bring them here!” Quickly rubbing at his optics, Hauler spilled out what he’d been told in Wheeljack’s lab and the panic that had followed. To his confusion, neither of them seemed surprised.

“We know,” Brawn explained when he inquired of it. “Wheeljack was concerned about you; he wanted us to come.”

Huffer pursed his lips, settling a hand on Hauler’s knee. “I doubt there’s anything we can do, but tell us if there is.”

Hauler tried to pull himself together but came up short as usual. How could he pull himself together when his other five parts were on the other side?

Finally he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his friends and pulling them against his sides. “Just stay here,” he murmured pleadingly. To his relief they relaxed, both working an arm around his back. Another silence stretched on and then Hauler blurted out, “I’m scared.”

“Of what?” Brawn coaxed.

“I—I don’t know. I guess I’m scared they’ll still just be puppets. Under Megatron’s control, they only have two choices: do one kind of evil or the other. Will they just choose good or good? What about who they are? When they were reprogrammed for evil, I lost my _family_! I was _bound_ to them! Will they even recognize me? Will they even _want_ to?!”

The two Minibots were silent and Hauler tightened his grip on them, knowing they didn’t have an answer for him.

—

The whispers crackled through the _Ark_ ’s passengers like energon through connected veins. “Devastator’s here.” “Do you think this is for real? Is he really on our side?” “How are we sure he’s ours?” “I want a turn with that control, y’know!”

Hauler stood just outside his quarters, staring down the hall at the massive frame sitting near the computer. His feet felt like they’d been bolted down where he was. He fully wanted to uproot them, but the more difficult decision was whether or not to go to Devastator or run the other way. When he had almost decided, linger shreds of fear the only thing preventing that first step, Brawn caught his wrist.

“C’mon,” he ordered. “We’re visiting your team. I’ve got your back.”

A spike of irrational anger rushed through Hauler—how dare Brawn make that decision for him?—but it was gone in a matter of seconds. Of course Brawn knew. He almost always did.

Hauler let himself be led toward the computer room, straight to the feet of his former team.

“Devastator,” Brawn started, sounding more nervous than Hauler had heard him be in quite a while, “You…know who this is?”

Devastator, who had been conversing with Ratchet about repairs still needed, stopped mid-sentence, staring at Hauler. Other Autobots let their conversations die off, more interested in seeing the combiner’s reaction to one of his past members.

Hauler felt his plating crawl under so many optics, but it was too late to turn away now. He just had to proceed with what he knew—with _who_ he knew. His spark roiled as he shook off Brawn’s hand and stepped closer, speaking in a small, hurried pitch.

“We would go to the bar and talk about the schematics for our next project until we got too overcharged to think straight about them. We made nicknames for each other, remember? ‘Scraplet’ for Scrapper. Hook, you were ‘Captain’. Scavenger, we shortened to ‘Avenger’. Mixmaster was ‘Maxi’. Bonecrusher, you didn’t want us to give you one but we called you ‘Boner’ anyway. We laughed and laughed at you until one of the mechs sitting next to us pulled me away and threw me onto the street to stop us. You stood up for me, Boner, and then after you kicked his can, you picked me up and called me ‘Roady’.”

Hauler quieted, deciding that he was saying too much, but he watched Devastator’s face closely and saw the face of each of his gestalt-mates in turn, as only a member could. Something was different though.

“I see you have a new member in my place. I ought to be insulted,” he mentioned, struggling to smile as though it were a joke, finding it impossible. “Does he have a nickname?”

To Hauler’s disbelief, Devastator looked down and away as though the question pained him. If the members were separate, he could imagine Scrapper crossing his arms to put a barrier between them. Hook would frown and rub his hands together and Mixmaster would stammer something unintelligible. Scavenger would try to act as though his attention wandered and tinker with something nearby with false interest. Bonecrusher would be utterly silent and still. This new member must be the feeler of the group, Hauler realized, like he used to be.

“We simply call him Long Haul.”

When he realized his former teammates had actually deigned to answer him, Hauler nodded jerkily. “Very well. I’m glad you have a ‘Haul’ with you. You need one. Still, you ought to have a nickname for him…How about ‘Infer’? He can be ‘Infer the Long-Haul’.”

Devastator laughed at that, shocking both the onlookers and the combiner himself. He coughed uncomfortably, rebooted his vocalizer and snapped a mask of aloofness over his face.

“I must return to repairs.”

Hauler opened his mouth to protest, but Ratchet did it for him. “Wheeljack, Perceptor, Grapple and I can handle things for a while, Devastator, if you want to…chat.”

“I must return to repairs,” Devastator repeated again sternly. Ratchet glanced uneasily at Hauler, who shook his helm.

“It’s alright,” he assured him even as his optics stung. Pivoting toward escape, Hauler arched and let out a strangled cry as Devastator’s EM field engulfed him from behind. He couldn’t _feel_ the emotions of his brothers as he’d longed for since the betrayal, but he could certainly _sense_ them. They all closed in on him at once, an instant stream of anxiety and regret and longing and dwindling hope.

Brawn was dragging him out of range before he could sense anything more, snapping a reproach at Devastator for stunning Hauler when his guard was down. The ex-Constructicon leaned on Brawn, coolant trickling down his face. Somehow he knew that would be the closest he ever got to touching his brothers’ sparks again.

—

“What if what the human said is true?” Long Haul demanded. “What if Lord Megatron abandoned us in the battlefield?!”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Bonecrusher barked. “He took the opportunity to retreat!”

“Yes, as he always does,” Long Haul pointed out. “And he left us behind to be an Autobot plaything!”

“Keep those thoughts to yourself,” Mixmaster hissed. “We don’t want to broil up his anger against us!”

“Because you’re _so good_ at that,” Long Haul shot back, startlingly bolder than usual. Scrapper rubbed his forehelm against the oncoming ache, hoping his brothers wouldn’t be so stupid as to continue this argument in increasing volumes. So far they did seem to think that was the plan.

“He is good at what he does and as a matter of fact, so are you! After all, you’re transportation!” Hook taunted. Long Haul made an obscene gesture at him and Hook bristled, ready to start forward. Bonecrusher threw out an arm to stop him.

“No, let me! I’m pretty good at my job too—breaking things! You can repair him afterward!”

“You’re not the one he insulted!” Hook snarled, shoving Bonecrusher’s arm away. “And I’m a warrior just as you are! I don’t just repair things; what do you think I am, an _Autobot_?!”

“Apparently that’s what Megatron thinks of us!” Long Haul cut in venomously. “He doesn’t think we’re worthy to be in his ranks—”

“Shut up!” Scrapper howled, catching all gestalt members’ attention. Planting his hands on his hips commandingly, he let loose. “Bonecrusher, if it weren’t for Hook, you’d have been deactivated a long time ago; show some appreciation! Hook, you should try repairing your legs and being transportation for your own tools as a change! And you!” Just as he had glared at the other two, he turned on Long Haul. “Don’t be uncouth, don’t be sarcastic, and do _not_ accuse our leader Megatron of treachery! If anyone should understand honor, it would be our master! Treachery would be an act of cowardice and Lord Megatron does not act out of cowardice, so _stop it_ , Hauler!”

Scrapper froze as soon as the forbidden word left his mouth, as did the others. Long Haul huffed, insulted by the mistaken title, and stalked off, leaving the rest of them with the empty space where their disowned brother would have shifted uneasily, ducked his helm and apologized. Almost as one, the team shivered.

“I…meant Long Haul,” Scrapper muttered, crossing his arms and inspecting the ground as though it could affirm his words.

“W-We know you did,” Mixmaster agreed apprehensively when the floor didn’t.

“I’m going to organize my stuff,” Scavenger announced, beating a quick retreat. The others made their own excuses and Scrapper found himself alone. He hunched his shoulders, spinning around slowly without seeing his surroundings. “Blast, I miss you, Roady,” he sighed somberly. “You always made the quiet alright.”

_Because of you_

_I try my hardest just to forget everything_

_Because of you_

_I don’t know how to let anyone else in_

_Because of you_

_I’m ashamed of my life, because it’s empty_

_Because of you_

_I am afraid…_


End file.
